A Sharp Twist
by tari-001
Summary: What if things ended a little differently on the jaguar scene? How will the partners cope when one took the fall to the swirlpool? How will this change the course of the story? Written by the influence of a class. Flames accepted.
1. The Fall Off

_**Hello ladies and gentlemen!**_

**_My name is tari, and I've been writing stories for quite a time now. The idea for this one came to me during a class (namely, Strategy of War & Peace ^^, ) and I just got the chance to write it down. I hope you enjoy it!_**

'This was good, huh?'

Tulio looked at his partner with glee and a big smile, ecstasied that his plan worked - once again. His happy features, however, turned to surprise when he saw an angry and resentful look on Miguel's face.

Without a single word to him, Miguel began pulling himself up. Tulio gave him a calculating look, trying to determine what the heck is wrong with the blond. He surely wouldn't have believed any of his words during the mock argument, it was supposed to be fake!

Tulio sighed slowly, deciding to deal with whatever problem they have firmly back on ground, not while hanging dangerously over possibly deadly waters. So he grabbed the rope a bit tighter and got ready to pull himself to safety.

However, as he looked toward the cliff on which he was hanging on, he noticed a little flaw on his line of life. The vine had begun to tear up from somewhere near the top, somewhere he will have to hurry to reach.

He heard cheers and happy yells from above. He wanted to shout back at them, to urge them to the situation, but only a small moan escaped his lips as the vines gave away a little more.

'Tulio! Tulio!'

He thought it was fair enough to tell that he had never been happier in his life to hear someone - especially a woman - calling to him. He needed to be saved, he didn't want to die, not now, not like this.

Just when he saw Chel's chocolate brown eyes and a fit of familiar blond hair, the vine snaps, and with a surprised yelp, he falls into the swirming water miles below...

--

Miguel had only just announced his decision to stay in the city when he heard Chel's frantic call for his ex-partner. Panic shots through him as his mind wanders around the possibilities - maybe they hadn't been able to get rid of Tzekel Khan after all, maybe he had survived by holding on to something, just like he and Tulio did. Bracing himself, he ran to the side.

However, nothing could have prepared him for what he saw right then.

First, he saw a tiny, almost fragile body falling slowly to the dangerous whirlpool below; and a pair of dark blue eyes staring up at him, terrified.

'No...' A disbelieving, almost praying whisper escaped his lips as he watches Tulio's thin body splashes into the swirling waters, getting almost immediately washed away. His brain seemed to stop working altogether. He heard Chel's muffled scream to the left of him, and felt that he himself is holding back a wounded scream, as if he had lost a part of himself.

It is not until the people of El Dorado gather around the two that his brain starts working again. The natives look down at their hell with a horrified expression, which had just swolen one of their beloved Gods.

'Tulio!!! No!!!' The scream he was holding back came out with full force, and he flung himself forward, ready to pull his friend back, whatever it takes. He would have done so without blinking, if it wasn't for two native soldiers holding him back in a tight lock, almost enabling him to move.

'Let go of me.' He snarled through his teeth, keeping his voice only for his friend, if, by some sort of miracle, his face shows up from the waves again, but some part of him secretly whispered to him that this is not possible. Not ever again. He felt vaguely some kind of warmth slide down his cheeks as he thought about that possibility, but he didn't understand quite what that warmness meant.

'Lord Miguel...' Chief Tannabuk tried to speak, but choked on his words. He was holding Chel close to him now, trying to soothe her out of jumping into the whirlpool herself. Though the girl seemed a bit more composed herself, probably because of knowing the reality of survival from the watery pit. After a moment of composure, he began speaking again. 'Lord Miguel, I'm terribly afraid there is nothing we can do right...' He looked away from the whirlpool, as if that could help.

'I don't care - now LET ME GO!' The blond yelled once again with all the force he could muster, and he felt himself getting considerably weaker as he struggles against the guards. The warmth on his face turns to ice as cold wind blowed pearl like liquid to the air. Miguel sank to his knees and wept some more as the futility of resistance hit him as never before.


	2. Repentance

**Hello again! Geez, I wasn't expecting to finish this chapter this early. **

**Thanks for the reviews! thegirlfrombarcelona, thanks especially for pointing out the tense mistakes ^^ You see, I'm trying to get used to the past tense (I used to write in present), so this is why it kept changing. I'm trying to be more careful.**

**nikki-kun05, I... was thinking of another possible way, but it was too complicated. As Tulio being captive is easier and more intriguing, I'll be doing that x)**

**And as for the last thing... There is a song in this chapter. I don't urge you to listen to it specifically, but in case you wonder what is the song like, there is a link in my profile, so you can listen from there. Also, I might have some word confusions in this chapter - just so you know.**

**Enjoy! ^^**

--

The first thing Tulio thought as he hit the water was that there was no survival from that, no way out. After all, the natives wouldn't be so afraid of the whirlpool for no reason. But even when the tide pulled at him harshly, he felt that the power was much less than what one could call deadly. It was as if the tide was going to emit him out from somewhere else, somewhere he wasn't quite sure about. He instinctively opened his mouth in surprise, and instantly gulped down a huge amount of water. Trying to fight down the dizziness that brought, he concentrated his mind on one action: swimming. _Swim_, he ordered his protesting brain and muscles over and over. This was the only thing that could help him now.

_Swim_, _swim_, _swim_.

As if concentrating on one action was not quite enough, a string of memories flooded to his mind at that time. He wondered vaguely if he was gonna die there after all. But the two faces that were dominant in his visions shielded him from that kind of thought.

Chel and Miguel.

Miguel...

A sudden pang twisted his heart as he thought about his friend and partner. They had not parted well - if that could be called a proper parting, of course. He never had a chance to confront him about his sudden coldness.

Although now, at the intersection of his memories of him and his new girlfriend, he began to sense something.

Was it possible that Miguel resented him for dating Chel?

He never had the chance to explain to his friend about all that, though he didn't know how he should explain such a thing.

But that could have been the trigger. He was the one who broke their promise to begin with. He had failed to his heart - leading to his failure at friendship.

In his state of mind, he had not cared for his surroundings, and therefore not realized the light that was approaching. With a sudden burst through splashing but miraculously still water, his lungs relieving the moment with elongated gasps, he resurfaced.

Before catching his breath properly, though, he heard the chinks of metal and a low, merciless laughter.

'Look what we have here, lads.'

He knew that voice, though he never thought he would hear it once again. He had hoped not to, anyway.

Tulio slowly raised his head to meet the eyes of Hernan Cortes and the smirking, nasty face of the ex-priest, Tzekel Khan.

--

In El Dorado.

What had been a cheery farewell party a few minutes ago had turned into a sorrowful mourning ceremony. Although attendance was not mandatory, almost all the village was present.

Miguel sat between the natives, looking vacantly at the thrones they were sitting, taking everything in rather slowly. He did not want to return there all by himself. The square was dominated by two colors other than gold now, pearly white and a soft, relaxing blue. Hardly a set of colors for mourning, Miguel thought involuntarily. He always thought that lamenting needed a darker, depressive color, so as to reflect the mood of the lamenters. This just didn't register as right to him. He wanted to protest, to tear the bright and cheerful colors, to replace everything with black instead.

But he didn't have the energy in him for it. He felt all hollowed out, as if nothing resided in him anymore.

He recalled the last moments of Tulio's last big plan. It had distracted Tzekel Khan enough for their own good, but the blond remembered how bright and clear his anger toward his un-suspecting ex-partner was, who had quickly followed his pace. His last glance at him before... _that_, was one of resentment and anger. He had thought then that he would never be able to forgive Tulio's words, his ignorance towards him in the presence of Chel.

Now that seemed just too meaningless. It was easier now to accept the possibility that Tulio didn't really mean those words, that his intention was only to make Chel come to Spain. Why was it only after losing him that he realized this?

Fresh tears sprang to his vacant eyes once again, and he tried to gulp them down now. He vaguely realized someone small sidling beside him.

'Is it gonna get any better?'

He turned slowly to meet Chel's gaze. She looked quite as hollow as he was, and her eyes were bloodshot, showing that she had shed the tears he was being so much of a coward to let go.

'I don't know,' he said truthfully. No need to say that it was gonna take an excruciatingly long time. They stood silent for a few moments.

'What are with those colors?' Miguel asked at last, not being able to hold the irritation away from his voice. He heard Chel's small smile.

'They represent how the people of El Dorado regard the... deceased person,' Chel's voice broke at the word. She continued after a little pause. 'White and gold to symbolize a pure soul... Blue means heavenly.'

Miguel stared at her, having never anticipated that. He then lifted his gaze to one of the pearly white veils flailing in the breeze like a ghost. Now his previous choice of colors seemed ridiculous. 'In our world, people use black in these ceremonies. To reflect their sorrow.' he mumbled. It seemed to be somehow easy to talk to Chel. Their pain complemented each other, seeming to form little webs of trust and renewed friendship around the two.

Chel didn't say anything to that. The next moment erased all the necessity for words, anyway, as a woman facing the crowd started singing what sounded like a lament. The other minute, two large drums joined in to the beat.

It was a soft, sorrowful, and excellent melody. One by one, the townspeople joined in with the singing. Chel was the last one to join, her voice a little stronger as she catches on.

The peaceful melody of the lament began to grow into Miguel, too. And as he watched the white and the blue veils flail almost to the rhythm of the drums against the night's bright stars, he felt sure that he would've joined in this song, too, if only he knew the words himself.

--

Okay. He had been in worse situations. Much worse situations, to be precise.

Never did he remember feeling such on edge, though.

And never had the con he was playing with was this much larger.

Cortes and his men had set out a camp near the fall and were taking the night out. Tulio sat in Cortes's tent with Tzekel Khan now as the commander was trying to decide what to do with the two.

The soldiers were far too close to the city. And with that sneak of a 'priest' with them, Tulio wasn't sure if the natives were in danger or not. He wasn't sure just how far could Tzekel Khan go to revenge the two so-called Gods and bring order - or in this case, destruction - to the people of El Dorado.

And he had to do something about it.

If someone had asked him a couple of days ago whether he would dare to confront Cortes and the Spanish armada in any means, he would have said a flat no, point blank. It was suicidal to even think about it.

But now...

The young Spaniard was surprised to find that he had changed noticeably during his stay in El Dorado. Where was his selfish, survival oriented, and possibly rational mind? Why was his more emotional part of the body in control now?

All he knew that after all he had been through in El Dorado and after all the kindness and acceptance of the native people there, he wasn't just going to surrender them into the hands of those merciless soldiers. He owed them too much to trap them in such a faith.

At that time, the quilt at the entrance of the tent was pulled aside and Cortes walked in, a calculative look on his face, as imposing as ever. He halted for a moment on the threshold, regarding the two men in front of him. At his presence, Tzekel Khan had immediately straightened from where he sat, eyes ablaze with a kind of fervor. Tulio, on the other hand, had shifted only very slightly, just acknowledging his presence, as if he considered himself as important as the conquistador. There was a glint of intelligence in his eyes, a glint that told Cortes he wasn't going to deal with any ordinary person, unlike the native.

And Cortes didn't like that a bit.

He made his way into the tent and took a seat across the two, still regarding them carefully. An awkward silence hung in the air as he pondered about his words, and then turned his attention to the stowaway who had escaped them a few days ago.

'How did you come here?'

Tulio waited a second himself before answering truthfully. 'I fell.'

Cortes was successful in hiding his frustration and disappointment. He expected something different from the man, something more intelligent. He tried a different way of approaching.

'When you boarded my ship, you had a friend. Where is he now?'

Cold and demanding. Tulio immediately recognized the inquisitive tone in the man's voice. His mind swiftly went over the possibilities: he couldn't tell Cortes Miguel's location, that was out of question. It would just serve to Tzekel Khan's needs if indeed the priest was plotting some kind of revenge. It seemed like his best option was to lie on his feet.

'We fell at the same time.' he responded in a blank voice, so devoid of emotions that he almost believed it himself. 'If he did not reemerge, I can only assume that he's...' He paused almost dramatically so that anything that he might have added wouldn't ruin his tone.

Before Cortes could say anything, a fierce hiss interrupted. 'I don't believe him.' Both the conquistador and Tulio turned to stare at the priest. 'My lord, he is lying. He is trying to save his own skin.'

'And what are _you_ trying to do?' Tulio hissed back, unable to contain his pure dislike for the man. 'Prove it if you can. If you can make it into the city, that's to say.'

Seeing that Tzekel Khan's face shone bright red with those words, and having no patience for any arguments, Cortes interrupted. 'Why can't he go to the city? He told he is the high priest there.'

Oh. The funny part. Tulio actually tried his best not to smirk. 'A disgraced high priest. The townspeople banished him from the city.'

'You seek revenge.'

It was more like a statement than a question, filled with knowledge and experience. Tzekel Khan turned to face Cortes. 'I don't seek no revenge, my Lord. I just want to show the people what genuine faith is. And serve to your best interests.'

This time Tulio couldn't help a laugh, but managed at the last second to pass it as a cough. He wondered whether this man would regard every single foreigner as a God.

'If you wish to enter the Golden City,' he spoke before the other two could say anything more, stressing the word 'golden' especially to pique Cortes's interest. 'You will do better with the cooperation of the people.'

He stopped there to see whether he would fall for it or not. Cortes seemed to be struggling with the concept. Then, his curiosity winning out, he asked. 'And how do you think we can make the people cooperate?'

Tulio leaned a bit forward as he replied to that, looking directly at the man's eyes. 'The people of the El Dorado consider me some kind of deity. Let me go and persuade them, then you can easily conquer the city.'

--

**Please don't forget to R&R ^^**


	3. The Return

_**Hello again, my lovely readers :) I'm so, so, so very sorry for the late update. Anyway, I hope you will enjoy this chapter. I'm not sure what I think about it, exactly. And one more thing, I'm doing betareaders thing from now on, so if anyone needs beta, just visit my profile. Love ya. Please don't forget to review :)**_

**_Disclaimer: I do not own the Road to Eldorado. The children sitting on the moon does._**

**_--_**

He had to keep going.

He didn't have any time. If he wanted this to be successful, he had to hurry.

So he once again ignored the pain and protests of his body. He forced his legs forward, trying not to trip on the branches and stones on his path.

The sun was rising steadily in the eastern sky. Noon must be approaching. Tulio didn't pause to look at the watch, though, afraid that that might slow him down.

_--Flashback--_

_'By dawn, then,' Cortes said, not turning to the two men. 'You will have until dusk to return back here with good news. Or...'_

_He turned back now, glaring dangerously at the young Spaniard._

_'Or we will attack without mercy.'_

_Tulio gulped down his fear and the bile that had come up to his throat. He was very much aware that they were discussing the lives of innocent people at their expanse. He tried to keep his cool enough to give a reply._

_'That will not be a problem. They trust me enough to listen to my every word.'_

_Tzekel Khan made an angry sound, which both Cortes and Tulio ignored. He surely was one to talk about deceiving people into belief, Tulio found himself thinking._

_Just then, Cortes took something small out and flipped it to the young Spaniard. Catching it despite his surprise, he realized that was a pocket watch. An elegant pocket watch at that._

_'Do not be late,' Cortes warned once again before turning his back to them and walking out of the tent._

_--Flashback--_

He vaguely realized that he had passed the 'Great big rock' in the new light of the noon as it glinted off the rock, too preoccupied to notice the engravings on the massive stone. _Just a bit more_, he promised himself. _Just a bit more, and I'm there_.

--

Miguel couldn't sleep. He tried with all his might during the night, but the images and his nightmares was way too livid for him to get some peace and comfort from the quiet and serene time of the day.

So he rose up from his bed in the temple - which was probably not a good choice to begin with - and started down the steps into the quiet and peaceful looking city. He wandered around, trying to ease his thoughts. He watched as the giant turtle swam up and down the river, chasing little fish. He couldn't imagine how everything still stood _unchanged_. For him, everything was much less bright, much less colorful, much less lively.

He didn't know just how long he stayed there, looking at the clear river as it turned from navy blue to grayish blue tinted with pink, and then to clear crystal blue as the sun rose steadily. When he heard a quiet sound of hooves approaching to him. He didn't need to look up.

'Hey, Altivo,' he said in a quiet, almost dull tone. Something gently nudged him on the shoulder, and he turned to face the whiteish - grey nuzzle of the horse. He absent-mindedly, almost automatically, put a hand to the horse's nose and pats it a bit, and Altivo responds with a small lick to his palm. Miguel tried not to look into the bright eyes of the horse, almost too intelligent for a pair of horse eye to be.

The natives had begun coming out of their houses, too, greeting him as they passed. He returned their greetings absent-mindedly, and continued his walk throughout the city. Children, playing with the small ball, passed him, too, and one of them passed him the ball, in hopes that maybe he would join their game again, like he did so eagerly a few days ago. Miguel gave the ball a kick, but didn't stay long enough. He was not in the mood. Probably never gonna be.

He followed the river up to where it narrowed into the tunnel, Altivo still beside him. He squinted through the opening, as if to see something else besides the dark water, and the light at the end.

Suddenly, without any visible warning beforehand, Altivo began to get restless.

Or should he call it excited? He didn't know. He couldn't be sure about anything when it came to this horse.

'What is it, boy?' Turning, he found that Altivo had taken a sprinting pose, ready to barge into the tunnel. He thrusted a hand to stop him.

'Ho, boy!' His voice raised a bit when his movement couldn't stop the horse and Altivo leapr forward, almost dropping him into the river. Miguel stared, his mouth dropping, as Altivo splashed through the water and into the tunnel.

--

It was all Tulio did to keep himself conscious as he tried to find his way splashing into the tunnel, but it was already slipping. He felt the rocks under his palms; the water was not deep enough yet, and he could walk in it, going for the light that was still too far away. The question was: would he finally make it?

'Just a bit more,' he mumbled to himself weakly, but his voice was also betraying him. He forced himself to take a couple of more steps. This journey seemed much more easy while in a boat, now it seemed to take an excrutiatingly long time. Where were those river guards, anyway? Just when he needed them.

After the couple of steps, it was just too much for him. He sighed, and collapsed, face first, into the water.

Somehow, even when his senses were fading into non-existence, he could hear something nearby... splashing? His mind vaguely wondered what on earth could make this sound, but gave up after a minute.

He heard a grumble from somewhere above him, and then something nudged very, very slightly to his arm. Another grumble. This time, he sensed something like... an animal through the sound.

There was a tug on his shirt, and then he was on a different surface, a surface rising and falling rythmically. He knew that touch - and... well, smell. He grabbed at the animal's fur a bit more tightly, and a happy neigh echoed in the tunnel.

'Altivo?...' he mumbled, using the small amount of energy to form a small smile. Did the horse come for him? How strange. Though not unexpected, not from Altivo. The horse licked the back of his hand.

This time, the young Spaniard did let the consciousness slip away from him, because he knew Altivo was carrying him back to safety, back to... home.

--

Chel was just about to get out to the city herself. It had been a time since she had woken up, but she didn't want to face El Dorado immediately after she woke up. Not without Tulio, like she got too much used to, waking him up with a kiss, and walking down together with him, hand in hand...

The memory brought fresh tears to her eyes, and she let them flow now, something she didn't allow last night, because she didn't want the people to see her like that. But she had cried a lot, secretly. It was almost unbearable to think. Tulio had given her hope, a huge one at that, and he had been her light at the end of the darkness. Now that light was gone... And she was consumed once again by the darkness, a darkness that was so thick and so intense that she felt like she was suffocating. She tried unsuccessfully to wipe her tears, picked up the golden earrings and got in front of the suit of golden armor which reflects everything off like a mirror. She smiled a bit as she remembered the time the Spaniard gave her the earrings and the tears surprisingly did not fall this time.

She stepped out of the temple a minute later, and is surprised to find the city active and almost excited. Wondering what could be possibly going on, she began descending the steps.

--

Miguel squinted once more as he looked into the tunnel, wondering where Altivo might have gone, and why would he go. A self concerned, almost childish part of him half hoped that the horse wouldn't leave him, too, not after his best friend.

After what seemed like an eternity for him, the horse's white head appeared out of the darkness. It somehow doesn't look like Altivo was alone, Miguel was almost sure there was someone behind the horse. He craned his neck to see.

The first thing he saw was something black, almost in contrast with the animal's fur. Miguel felt like his heart skipped a beat. Maybe two. It may have stopped altogether. He tried to find his voice as the horse swam nearer, bringing into full view of who it was bearing.

The blond was still mesmerized as Altivo made it to the shore, neighing only a little impatiently as he wanted Miguel's help. The blond wondered bitterly if Tulio was still alive, but when he put his hand on Tulio's back to support him while Altivo climbed ashore, he felt his chest rising and falling rythmically under his hand. This brought him such a relief that for one second, he just looked at his partner, marvelling the impossible, forgetting where he was or what he was doing. It was only after Altivo's second impatient neigh that alerted him to the people gathering around them, as if they were encountering some miracle. That should be exactly how this seemed like to them, Miguel thought, seeing someone released from the watery depths of 'Xibalba'. He proceeded in front of Altivo and put a hand on his gem, and with a gentle tug, made the horse start walking. He would take his friend to the healer.

As they walked on, the natives surround them intently, hands reaching to touch Tulio, whichever part they could reach, murmuring in hushed voices. Dazed. Awed. Miguel didn't even have the voice to ask them to stand back a bit.

Around half the way to the village, someone came rushing over to join them.

Chel's mouth fell open as she saw her lover on Altivo, unconscious but alive. She seemed as unable to speak as Miguel while she walked to the horse's side, and whispered in a small voice as she took the black haired Spaniard's hand.

'Tulio...'

Tulio shifted very slightly as he heard a half scared female voice reached his ears, like light through a long tunnel. His eyelids fluttered and opened a bit, showing one of the faces he had missed most in this short span. A small smile raised the corners of his lips.

'Hey...'

A bright smile made its way to Chel's face when she heard his reply, and she held his hand as they walked on. Tulio returned the pressure with just the slightest squeeze, not sure if he had enough strength for more. At that time, chief Tannabuk finally came in front of them, his eyes a little bulging, his expression reflecting those of the villagers.

'This is a miracle...'

Miguel didn't wait long for him to conceive this. 'Chief please, I think he needs to see the healer.'

'Of course. Here, I will lead you.'

They began following him. Tulio almost wanted to tell them to wait, that there were more urgent problems, but he found out that he didn't have the strength or resolve to do that. His body was aching all over after all, and he was very hungry. As if to confirm this, his stomach gave a low grumble. How many hours had he got left, anyway? Maybe there was still a bit of time before he can go back to the camp. He listened to the voices around him, not just the villagers and his friends, but the nature itself. They came to a stop at that time, and Tulio tried to open his eyes again, this time being more successful.

They were in front of a tent, colorful herbs and branches sticking everywhere. The smell wasn't especially pleasant, though. He squinted at the sky, trying to guess the time. Early afternoon, maybe? He groaned softly, not satisfied. Immediately, two person came closer to his side, their expressions worried and wary.

'Tulio, what's the problem? Does it hurt?'

Miguel. He knew his voice anywhere. 'No...' He said a little hoarsely, his voice coming out a bit low. He wondered if they heard him.

'Don't worry. You're gonna be okay.' Chel said reassuringly and turned to someone behind her. She stepped back to allow the chief through, who gently lifted Tulio from the horse and carried him into the tent. The young Spaniard heard mumbling and flurry outside, and instantly regretted the fact that he was now lying on a bed right across the tent entrance. The whole village seemed to be gathered just to watch what was going on.

'Would you like some privacy, my lord?' The healer asked, probably having seen the expression on Tulio's face.

'Please,' Tulio answered through gritted teeth. The native nodded knowingly, and pulled the canvas at the entrance closed, but not before Miguel and Chel came in, too. Tulio closed his eyes, pretending that he couldn't see or hear anyone inside or outside the tent.

'How serious are his wounds?' He heard Miguel asking, as the healer applied some weird smelling ointment to the scratches and cuts across his body. Tulio had all but forgotten the fall through the whirlpool. The injuries didn't feel too bad, however. The dominant feeling now was hunger, an his stomach growled in synchronization with his thoughts.

'My lord, would you like something to eat?'

'I'm starving,' Tulio agreed.

'We are gonna arrange a festivity...'

'No!' His eyes snapped open once again, and the others all gasped in surprise, everyone but the healer, who continued his job like nothing happened.

'Chief, we need to discuss something.' He continued hastily, straightening himself on his elbows. 'They are not really bad,' he added to the healer, who tried to push him back down.

'Tulio...' Chel tried to reason, her beautiful face creased with anxiety. Tulio didn't listen for her, either.

'Look, I really don't have much time, okay? I have to get back and that is why we have to have a talk right now.'

'Get back to where? What are you talking about?' Miguel asked, incredulity masking off much of everything from his voice.

Tulio took a deep breath and looked at each of the faces before explaining. 'Back to Cortes. He has arrived on shore, Miguel, and he is holding me as a captive.'


	4. Author's Note

_**I'm taking everything on hiatus. Literally everything. I don't think I'll be able to write anything for a while. I don't know how long this 'a while' will last. This decision has nothing to do with any of the members on ff. net . You are all great readers and writers. It's a personal thing and I'm so shocked right now, I can't even move my fingers around the keyboard. I don't feel anything right now, so I can write.**_

_**I'm sorry.**_

_**I put this AN because I don't suppose people visit writers' profile too often. I hope ff. net won't mind.**_

_**Love y'all,**_  
_**Tari.**_


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